All Her Fault

Footsteps. And a shadow through the glass panel as Jenny approached and opened the door. Only it wasn’t Jenny. The woman was short with a mass of unruly brown curls, and a tea towel in her hand. The nanny perhaps? Though she didn’t look much like the nannies and au pairs Marissa saw when she dropped Milo to school each morning.

‘Hi, I’m Marissa, I’m here to pick up my son, Milo?’ she said to the woman.

‘Ah, you must have the wrong house, there’s nobody called Milo here.’

‘Oh!’ Marissa said, fi shing her phone from her handbag. ‘I’m so sorry, let me just check . . .’ She clicked into the message from Jenny and read aloud.

‘14 Tudor Grove . . .’ She looked up at the woman. ‘Sorry, what number is this?’

‘This is fourteen, but there’s no Milo here. It’s just me.’

Marissa shook her head, looking down again at the text, as though it might have somehow changed in the intervening seconds. She held it up to the woman.

‘I’m not going mad, am I, this does say 14 Tudor Grove?’

The woman nodded. ‘Someone must have given you the wrong address. Sure, give them a ring and see?’

She started to close the door, and that’s when the first pang of unease hit. It felt like it did last weekend when she couldn’t find Milo in the playground – he was there somewhere, of course he was, but she couldn’t relax until she had eyes on him.

And seconds later, she did. But she had no eyes on him now.

Now, he was in Jenny’s house and the woman who was not Jenny was closing the door.

‘Wait! Sorry, do you mind if I stay here while I ring, in case there’s been some mix- up?’

The woman’s kind brown eyes suggested she had no idea what kind of mix- up Marissa meant, but she kept the door open. Marissa hit the Call button on Jenny’s text and waited for the ringtone. There was none. Just an automated message.

The number you have called is not recognized.

Unease slipped into mild panic.

‘It’s not working,’ Marissa said to the woman, her voice hoarse.

‘Come in,’ the woman said, pulling the door wide. ‘We’ll figure it out. Some kind of glitch with the phone company, no doubt.’

She chattered on as Marissa followed her through to her kitchen, still trying to phone Jenny. But the message was the same each time.

The number you have called is not recognized.

‘Now, this person you’re trying to phone – who is she?’

‘Jenny. A mum from the school. My son Milo is on a playdate with her son Jacob. This is the address she sent me for pick- up.’

The words came in short, breathless bursts.

She showed the woman Jenny’s message.

            The address is 14 Tudor Grove – if I’m not home from workwhen you get there, my nanny Carrie will be there with the boys.

The woman tilted her head, looking puzzled.

‘It doesn’t make sense,’ Marissa continued. ‘If this is her address, why is she not here?’ Her breath got shorter, faster.

‘Why is Milo not here?’

‘And you’ve never been to her house before?’

‘No, no – Milo just started school this year, and this is his first playdate with Jacob.’ She swallowed, gulped at the air and tried to slow her breathing. ‘I met Jenny at the school social, and she was lovely – I don’t understand what’s going on. How would she get her own address wrong?’

‘Do you have numbers for other parents in the class, could you call one of them to get the right address?’

Of course. That’s what she needed to do. Sarah Rayburn would definitely have a number for Jenny – Sarah knew everyone. There would be a simple explanation. Marissa pulled up Sarah’s number and dialled. Sarah picked up, sounding surprised.

‘Marissa, how are you?’ she said, in a voice that meant, Why are you calling me at half five on a Friday?

‘Sarah, do you have a number for Jenny Kennedy? Milo is on a playdate with Jacob, but somehow Jenny sent me the wrong address and now I’ve no idea where to get him!’ Marissa laughed, but it came out sounding hysterical.

‘Marissa, there must be some mistake. Did you get your dates mixed up?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Milo can’t be on a playdate with Jacob – Jacob is here in our house.’

That’s when Marissa’s limbs went loose. As the phone dropped from her hand, she sagged against the wall and stared at the woman.

‘I don’t know where my son is,’ she whispered, and slipped to the stranger’s floor.